[OOC: I'm sorry for the delay! I had an unexpected baseball game to attend for work. Don't ask. This is a PARTY POST. Feel free to make up booths that are there and thread-jack to your heart's content, tag characters multiple times, post characters in a couple times at different moments throughout the fair, feel free to assume that your character
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Hermione is a bit warm, but there's a little fan running off of batteries. In between rounds of ring toss, she'll squirt a bit of water from a spray bottle into the fan and have it hit her on the face. It's very cooling and quite pleasant.
Of course, there is the occasional blast of water and air that hits those who walk up to the booth. It's entirely possible a blast of water to the face isn't pleasant to everyone, but Hermione has found that most are in such a good mood, they take it all rather well.
Whoosh!
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It's odd, doing something like this with her. It's so normal. He met her on a hidden train going to Hogwarts, a school for teaching witchcraft and wizardy, and here they are, volunteering at a fair together in Chicago.
The simplicity of it is... It's almost refreshing. As wonderful as finding out about Hogwarts has been, Harry has never needed to be a wizard. It's not the great destiny that he'd been seeking. He wanted a family and friends. He wanted a normal life where he wasn't noticed any more or less than anyone else.
It's incredible to have that here.
He blinks as some of that water hits him in the face. It doesn't get in his eyes, but it does land on his glasses.
"I... brought you ice cream," he says, holding one out in her general direction. It's difficult to see with water drops slipping down his glasses.
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The best part of it all is seeing Harry enjoy himself, honestly.
When she looks over at the sound of his voice, her hands fly up to cover her mouth. She starts to apologize for the face-full of water, but she finds herself laughing, instead.
"Oh, Harry," is all she can manage for a good thirty seconds. "Thank you..." She reaches out for the ice cream and hands him a soft cloth to dry off his glasses.
"I didn't see you there," she says, though her tone implies she might have sprayed the water anyway. Something about being outside and at a fair is lending Hermione an air of mischief. She's a wild woman today. Well... Not really 'wild'.
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It's carefree.
She sounds as young as she truly is for once. Sometimes he forgets how old they are. It's hard to remember when the world is weighing down upon them. She sounds free from burden, and it is nice being here like this with her.
They've been through so much and had so much of their youth taken from them.
"You're welcome. I'm not sure it would have mattered if you had," Harry says, because yes, he hears what she implies with her tone. "How's the ring game running?"
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He does this by winning the game.
When that is preceded by a question, something along the lines of "How could you win if it can't be beaten?" he merely shrugs.
"I'm brilliant," he says before eating more cotton candy (though, he's switched off from the blue and onto the pink) and then he's moving along to interrogate the Ferris Wheel operator. There isn't anything that won't catch his attention today, however, as he's wide-eyed and curious about everything here.
He's also wanting to go on the carousel, though he has someone in mind to go with him.
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It was a break, if she's honest, from being Martha Jones. She wasn't a leader at all, but she supported her friend who was brilliant and she took a moment to stand on the sidelines, instead of the very front.
It still feels as though some switch has been set in the 'off' position, which is just as well. It's easy like this.
However, she stops whatever it is that she was doing when she notices the Doctor having a discussion with someone running one of the games. When he walks away from them, she claps.
"Very nicely done," Martha says, and smiling doesn't come easily but she tries. "You are brilliant."
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"I am," he says agreeably, then meanders on over to her side. He turns around in place, looking at all of the people and booths. There's so much to see.
There's laughter and color and people moving to grab their friends' hands. It's a moment of happiness.
"You're rather brilliant yourself, Martha Jones. This is quite the event." He nods, agreeing with himself, then he turns all of his attention to her and lifts his brows in question. "There's a carousel. It's been quite a while since I've ridden on a carousel."
That hint is all for you, Martha. So is the concern, alas.
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Why is it only wood and movement?
"Thank you," Martha says and smiles at him, watching his expressions, watching the way that he looks at everything.
If nothing else, it's distraction enough being beside him. It's like being somewhere else entirely. It's hard to fall back into emptiness when he's so distracting.
"Is that a hint, Mr. Smith?"
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Oops...
"You're really sweet, but I think I'm a little old for you... sorry!"
But none-the-less, she is having fun!
And she gets to eat cotton candy all day and it's a beautiful day. That's her favourite park of fairs!
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His life is exciting honestly.
He happens to overhear Cassie's words with the young boy.
"You can't be that much older than him," he says, raising an eyebrow at her as he walks over to a folder to organize it.
Young people these days...
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She looks up as she hears Robin's voice and grins. "Hey, I'm twenty two actually!" Cassie tells him in a matter-of-factly tone, but she's still smiling any way. She wonders how old Robin is. Do Angels age differently to humans?
The young lad just stares at her in slight shock. "Seriously?!"
"Yep!" she tells him with a nod. The guy looks disappointed and moves on.
"Having fun?" she asks Robin once the young lad leaves.
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He is much, much older than he looks. Robin is actually starting to feel older than he actually is, which makes his reactions to 'young people' worse than they would have been two years ago.
At the same time, he's not as much of an asshole as he once was.
"But you're right, according to the laws of the United States. It's best that you didn't start a serious relationship with someone under the age of eighteen."
Robin makes a face at the question as if he's somehow too uptight to have fun. He isn't, and he knows this.
"It's a... fair," he answers, looking sideways at her. "What about you? Enjoying... kissing people?"
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It's been a long time since she's been to a fair, and she's taking everything in and just trying to enjoy herself.
Even staying mostly under the plywood overhang built over the starting gate for the racers, Rogue's getting quite a bit of sun, and she can practically feel new freckles springing up on her nose and cheeks. Even so, it's worth it. It's started out a lovely day, and she has high hopes for the rest of it.
Of course, she won't be saying that out loud. There isn't enough wood in all of Chicago to knock on to follow a statement about hoping for a day to settle in nice and easy.
So, she's talking to people here and there about mostly anything, simple 'how do you do's' and so forth, and here in a quick bit, she'll go get one of the lemonades she's been eying for the past twenty minutes.
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Her head snaps around, her mouth dropping open for a moment. Then, she's smiling, and if it's brighter than normal, well...
At least she's not tackle-hugging him? The urge is there, but Rogue doesn't figure a month is long enough for him to have become a hug-lover, at least not in public.
"I reckon that'd give me somethin' to do," she says, like he hasn't been gone for a month. "I wouldn't mind takin' a look."
She stands up, dusting off hands that really don't need dusting, and cocks her head to the side. "I missed you," she says, and she figures he can just deal with it. "Where's the house at, darlin'?" She figures if it's here in Chicago, that will tell her a lot.
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He smiles at the look on her face.
"Well, good," he says. "I'd hate to use broken appliances for the rest of my life."
He can just deal with it, but he won't say anything back to that. Even if he missed her too. Sure, it's only been a month, but he'd been sure that he'd be gone for good.
It took him a week to find anyone, because he's still been wrestling with the idea of just leaving again.
"It's an apartment," Danny says instead and then smirks. "I don't really got any broken appliances. Just thought that'd be a good opener."
The smirk falls away. It's been a long while since he's been this way with anyone or wanted to be that way. Seriousness sinks in despite himself.
"How've you been?"
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The sunglasses look pretty awesome too, don't they?
Yeah, he's feeling cool.
He's trying to forget that the last time that he felt this cool, he had to deal with zombies trying to blow up his high school.
Later, he'll be in the dunking tank to be dunked. He had to volunteer for something, and he is hoping that it'll be hot enough later that he'll want to be cooled off.
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Yes, she's probably gotten quite a bit of cotton candy all over her face at this stage, and there might be a puff or two of it that has somehow gotten itself stuck in her hair. She loves cotton candy a lot. And she's already eaten quite a bit of it.
So she's got fun and games all around her and lots of sugary food in her hands. All she needs now is a buddy.
Ohai, Xander.
"Oh my god those glasses are like totally badass. Are you a spy? You look like a spy, like a super badass spy of awesome and badassery and hi my name's Trin you're totally awesome what's your name? Do you like cotton candy? HOW AWESOME IS THIS PLACE?"
She's sliding her sticky hand around your shoulder, Xander. Trin's kind of forward like that. Whoops.
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He doesn't know which question to answer.
He is not even aware of most of the questions that were asked.
"Xander," he says finally. She's pretty so he doesn't mind the sticky hand on his shoulder. "Xander is me. You are Trin. You think my sunglasses are badass, which is true."
He pauses, sliding the sunglasses back up his face.
"It's about... all I got."
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"But yeah. Those ARE badass glasses. They make you look like James Bond. I guess you aren't actually James Bond, because your name is Xander. Unless it's a cover? Are you a spy, Xander?" She giggles and eats another bite of cotton candy.
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